


Under The Tide

by giraffles



Series: FMA Rarepair Week 2016 [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Anxiety, FMA Rarepair Week, Fluff, M/M, My baes, Post-Canon, alphonse has too many cats, the elric-tringham household is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffles/pseuds/giraffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And If I can, I’ll be your strength</i>
  <br/>
  <i>(And it won’t be long now)</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Keep holding, holding your head up</i>
</p><p>Home, they say, is where the heart is. And Fletcher would argue that home really is wherever his brother is, as long as they’re together. But in the long run having a roof and four walls is much preferable to hiding in run down buildings or huddling under lean-to’s. So it’s hard when he makes the decision to leave not only his brother, but the first stable home they’ve had in <i>years</i>, to go live with the Elrics in Central.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under The Tide

Home, they say, is where the heart is. And Fletcher would argue that home really is wherever his brother is, as long as they’re together. But in the long run having a roof and four walls is much preferable to hiding in run down buildings or huddling under lean-to’s. So it’s hard when he makes the decision to leave not only his brother, but the first stable home they’ve had in _years_ , to go live with the Elrics in Central.

He’s going to become a doctor, or at least some sort of medical professional. School has been a dream long held dormant, pinned down by unfortunate circumstances and the idea that the option simply wasn’t there. But Fletcher makes that choice to make a mad dash towards that goal, to do something for himself for once. Even if it’s to pursue a career in helping people, it still feels as though it’s selfish, leaving Russell behind. Even if it’s a scant six months later when his brother decides to join them and bring their circle to completeness.

It it still a home, with the roof and walls and the furniture it needs to be labeled as such. There are no less than five cats in residence, all named after food, save for the one acquired most recently who is still awaiting the perfect title. There are books scattered about, the sink is never clear of dishes, and different potted plants are beginning to take over every inch of windowsill space. (They have to be alchemically rooted to the wood too, to keep the cats from knocking them off over and over again.) There is fur on everything. Ed keeps leaving his dirty clothes about, no matter how many time his brother yells at him for it. There’s a coffee stain on the rug where he fell asleep that one time while studying for an exam. It’s a home, but it still doesn’t feel like _his_.

Maybe it’s some internal fear that things are going too well to last. Any time life goes right, that it treats him with a measure of respect and goodwill, he has this twisting feeling in his gut that it’s all going to shatter. And sooner rather than later. It’s not entirely rational, but that doesn’t keep the anxiety from spiking in the back of his mind when things are quiet and there’s nothing to distract him. Fletcher wants to believe it’s okay. That things are going to _stay_ okay. That normalcy isn’t just a show you put on for the rest of humanity, that it’s something you can actually have.

No one else seems to have this problem. Alphonse is perfectly happy to indulge in a dozen different hobbies and spoil his pet cats. Ed and Russell have this strange thing going on, that they don’t seem to be sure of but everyone can see it coming. (If he knew it wouldn’t send him into a backslide, Fletcher would have already told his brother to _kiss him already_.) They all work odd jobs, even though Ed has enough back pay to keep them all covered comfortably. He goes to class, panics about class, and then passes everything with flying colors. He comes home to listen to his brother chatter about whatever new thing he’s read in all the books that are available in Central. They fall into a sort of rhythm, day to day, week to week.

Fletcher still feels like he’s going to fall out of it at any moment.

His brother is oblivious to his personal turmoil. Not that it's entirely his fault, because Fletcher has gotten good at hiding it. He's gotten far too good at pretending that everything is fine, at being meek and unnoticed. This is what he wanted, this is what he's chosen, and it feels like failure to admit that he's floundering. In that respect he's not that different from Russell.

Breath in. Breath out. Live to fight another day. Try not to fall along the way.

 

* * *

 

 

Of course, it’s always easier to tell yourself one thing than it is to put it into practice. The world may be ruled by laws of science and nature, but those rules are born from chaos and functions far beyond the grasp of mankind. Life isn’t very rational. Or fair.

It’s three in the morning and he’s been pacing in circles around the kitchen for nearly an hour. Breadloaf has been meowing plaintively, thinking he’s in there to make food, and that of course he should be sharing. He hasn’t the will at the moment to shush her. Not that it would have worked anyway, she’s the loudest of the bunch, mewing for attention and treats and sometimes simply because the house is quiet.

The program Fletcher is in is highly competitive. It’s the nature of anything of merit at the Central University, and he knew this going in— but it’s of no comfort to know that his marks have been excellent and that he’s at the top of the class. There’s still that what if, what if, _what if_ clawing at every thought. What if they made a mistake, and the scores are wrong? What if he botched that last paper, and he’s just the last to know? What if they find out the true extent that his family has been involved in the state and various criminal activities? They’d throw him out. Dismiss him from academia in an instant. What if—

      “Why are you still up?”

Fletcher starts and a startled gasp tears from his throat. He’d been too involved in over-thinking everything to realize that Alphonse had wandered downstairs, scrubbing at his eyes and petting the cat that had leapt onto the table. If his heart wasn’t already trying to break out of his chest, it certainly was now.

      “Are you okay?” Is the followup question, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or cry. At least it’s Alphonse, and not Edward or his brother, because for whatever reason it’s so much harder to be honest with them. Maybe because they have enough baggage without him adding to it. It’s not their burden, why should they have to bear it too?

      “No.” He finally whispers. “No, not really.”

      “Oh,” Alphonse murmurs, “When was the last time you slept?”

He shrugs and shakes his head. He’s been up for thirty-one hours, not counting the accidental nap he took for about twenty minutes, passing out from sheer exhaustion and then waking back into a state of constant panic. It has not been an enjoyable day and a half.

      “Oh.” Alphonse says again, and pushes Breadloaf off the table. “That’s really not good.”

      “Yeah.” His voice cracks as much as he wills it not to. But he doesn’t have much will to spare at the moment, doesn’t have a way to stop his nails from drawing angry lines on his arms.

      “Give me a sec.” Alphonse then wanders away for a few long moments, leaving Fletcher alone in the kitchen with a cat and a night light and too many thoughts once again. But then he returns, with shoes on and both of their coats in hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

And he doesn’t refuse, only pulls on the blue jacket and follows him outside.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The streets are empty and quiet, and he can’t decides if he likes it our not. Sometimes the noise is too much, too many sounds and voices, but the silence is equally disturbing. They could be the only ones alive in the whole city. The only ones on the sidewalks, side by side, quiet but falling step-in-step. And they’re quiet for a long time. To the point he wonders what the purpose of it is, to wander, when he’s still stuck in a loop of his own insecurities.

      “It’s going to be okay.” Alphonse finally says, and loops their arms together. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now. And it probably won’t for a while. But you’ll get through this, alright?”

He’s close and warm and _grounding_ even if his words are hard to believe in, hard to find the grains of truth amongst everything railing against them. Fletcher has no idea how he manages to be such a rock for all of them, considering he’s equally been to hell and back. Fletcher has too many emotions welling up in him to form an intelligent response, so he doesn’t. He just nods and holds on tight.

They walk for a while longer, until he feels like he’s finally going to fall over and pass out in the nearest gutter. Alphonse gives his hand a squeeze.

      “Ready to head home?”

      “Yeah.” He ponders the term for a minute, the loaded nature of that question. “Yeah, home sounds nice.”


End file.
